I'm A Little Out of Practice

I got drunk last night.

So very, very drunk.

If you follow me on Twitter, then 1. Yay! and 2. I'm sorry.

But the good news is that I'm not hungover! Which is a miracle in and of itself because I remember what I drank and it's just unpretty.

I knew that I was gonna get crazy but I had planned to save that for this evening. Instead, around 5:30 last night, with my long pants soaked up to my knees and snow flakes landing on my lapels, I decided that I would use the emergency money in my car to buy a fifth of tequila. I ran this crazy idea by Sam and Bailey's moms (Klea's playgroup) and Bailey's mom was all "That's a great idea! I'll drink it with you and then we can go to the bar!". Her words were like honey to my ears. She was even willing to drive.

Hello, Lover.

We washed down our curly fries with Senor Jose and then jumped in her vehicle and drove to our local pub. I warned my Tweeps (Twitter peeps) that it was about to go down and most of them were on board for the ride. What I hadn't considered was that I would start texting (then sexting *gasp!*) my "friend".

He and I have been together since 2005. It's an on-and-off friends with benefits relationship. Nobody knows we're friends and we like it that way. When we first started our relationship, I panicked to the brink of my sanity and told him that I needed rules. Just three.

1. He can not ever tell me if he were sleeping with someone else at the same time. (That's just nasty and I would freak the eff out.)
2. He can not get me pregnant.
3. We can both call, and if desired, deny the request.

He looked at me, grinned, and said he had three rules of his own.

1. I can never ask where he is or who he's with.
2. I can never trick him into getting me pregnant.
3. When I stop calling, I'm never to explain why.

I figured that was fair enough and an agreement was made. To be honest, I forget he's even there in the wings unless I'm drunk and boyfriendless. Which is where I found myself last night. The first text (around 8:00) said, "You know how I get when I'm drunk? Well, I'm drunk... and single!". To which he responded, "Oh, yeah? :)". I didn't even know he'd been sending me text messages all night. I was too busy being asked if I was "still a snug fit".

When I finally woke up it was only because he called me at 11:20. Who does that?

When I answered the phone at 11:20 the conversation went like this:
Me: Hello? (What he heard: hhhhhawwooo?)
Friend: It's me.
Me: Hmmm...
Friend: Am I coming over?
Me: No. I'm asleep!  (nonafeanvnaep vaijioapvehaui ahueapfne)
Friend: I can't understand you.
Me: Why would you call me this late? So rude! (famioemaoapvnaeun afhuean ehau pajfiejpahae)
Friend: Are you trying to see me or not?
Me: No. (No.)
*phone disconnects*

The next thing I knew it was four o' clock and I felt like someone had stuck me with an adrenaline needle. That's when I saw his final message from last night, sent around 11:30p.

"You are the only woman I know that can drunk text me at 8 and be passed out by 11".

I think he's starting to fall in love with me.

(photo Tequila Buzz. The review is absolutely hateful. True. But hateful nonetheless.)

What's In a Name?

Editor's Note: I still don't feel like myself on most days. I'm slowly getting back to the place where I can enjoy life. With that being said, here's part two of Peter Pan's story.

Shakespeare once asked, "Whats in a name?". He wrote, "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet". * He also penned more than a hundred phrases that still resonate to the core of our beings. Willie related the beauty of a woman to the brightness and glory of the sun. If it had been him that called me by the wrong name, I'd have been fine.

I only bring it up because Peter Pan called me by the wrong name. In a text message! Which we all know is his favorite method of communication.

It started out innocently enough. He wanted to say "Hey". But he didn't say just Hey. He said, "Hey JBard". I first brushed it off because C'mon! Right? It's just a typo. Damn You Auto Correct! But then he did it again and again.

It was only because he kept texting me that I finally called him. Well, that and his persistent texting caused me to have a caustic reaction in the ice cream aisle of my grocery store. Imagine standing in the frozen treats aisle debating with your partner over the benefits of getting the name brand ice cream on sale versus the store brand just because it's cheaper, when a crazy, overweight lady whose pocket keeps ringing bursts out with "Uuuuuuugggggghhhhhh! What the hell do you want?!?". That would freak you out, right? Well it freaked out the lady in the aisle with me so I totally rolled my eyes at her, snatched my phone from my pocket and dialed the mo.

He says, "Hey J-Beard"
Me: Hey
PP: I miss you
Me: That's weird. We don't even know each other well enough for that.
Because, really? People! It's been like 48, maybe 56, hours.

He proceeded to tell me that he wanted to know me. If I gave him a chance to know me that I wouldn't regret it. It was creepy. I told him that I had to go because I was busy and that I would call him when I wasn't busy. We hung up and... almost immediately... he texted me. Peter Pan wanted to know if our date for Wednesday was still on. Actually, he wanted to know "our meetin on wednesday cumin on".

Firstly, I was angry that he was even texting me because I know I just said I was busy before I hung up the damned phone. Secondly, why would he spell "come" like that! Ewah! Plus, he had spelled my name wrong... again. And had managed to say it wrong on the phone. Now, I'll give the pronunciation to the whole accent thing but I told him how to spell my name. He's just doing it on purpose at this point.

When he asked me to meet him at 7p on Wednesday, I told him that I wasn't going anywhere with someone who didn't know my name. He acted all confused and wrote, "Am sorry just shorten your name". And then proceeded without shame to say, "I want us meet where u wil feel comfortable there is a bar in de mall I would like us meet over there if it is ok wit u If u have a place in mind u can out wit it".

My head almost exploded in grammatical anger.

Then he asked me if I was still busy. Like 20 seconds after that written assault on the English language. By now I'm all over Facebook with the ridiculousness of this whole tale because how can you spell and say my name wrong then think that we're still on for a date? How! I've also let Av know that her crime will not go unpunished and I can only think of one way for her to make penance: free beers.

I tell him yes, that I'm busy and then I proceed to spell my full name. J-B-I-R-D. I tell him that calling me JBeard or JBard is not the same and that he needs to stop. Now. That it's really starting to piss me off. He apologizes and then says that he'll explain it to me when we meet and wants to know if I'm driving or if he's picking me up. I'm all "No. You'll explain it to me now".

And then he tells me that he has a cousin named Joyous Beardlandia and they call her J-Beard for short. And because my name is J Hypen Bird and the two names are so similar he thought that I'd go by J-Beard also. Am I ok now? Do I understand? Problem is not only do I *not* understand but I lose my shit!

I tell him that I don't believe him. How can it be that he calls me the wrong name by TEXT? He had to spell it out AFTER I had spelled it out.

He wanted me to explain why I think he would lie to me. What would he gain? He was even willing to show me her picture when the time was right. I had pierced his little, African soul with my distrust. I didn't even know him. Peter Pan assured me that he would never lie to me for any reason. Was I clear now?

All I had for him was, "Yeah, well, it hurts when someone can't get your name right".

He plead his case all night. And I ignored him until the sun came up and he texted me, "Gudmornin JBurn n have a guday at wk".

In my best angry text font I told him that he was just doing it on purpose now, spelling my name wrong. And that it was mean and hurtful. Peter Pan was told not to call or text me anymore. Wednesday was off and I wasn't interested.

Willie asked what's in a name. But the truth is he already knew. Names, love them or hate them, make up who we are at our core. To ignore that is to ignore our greatest self. And there's no way I'm going to let some punk with an accent and a mommy complex do that to me.

*from Romeo and Juliet

So You Are Her Only Friend, Aren't You?

I love Averi. That's not a secret. I've known her for almost as long as I've lived in this state but the crazy thing is that we don't really know each other at all. Every time she comes into town, we find out more about each other that's what makes our bond that even closer.

Actually, I think that's why everybody loves Av. She's so optimistic and hopeful that it just rubs off on you. She has complete trust in everyone she's ever met. Some people (*ahem! ahem!* *cough-yells "Staci!") take advantage of her good nature and kind heart. This is another one of those stories.

The weekend I met Peter Pan, I was only out running the street because Av begged me to go to our old haunt, Ye Old Haunt. So, maybe she didn't beg. But there was some serious pleading. We stopped going to this place in like 2006... for good reason. There was a band playing and I love live music so I was all 'meh. I guess so.' and she was all 'YAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!' because she was working double time to have all of her favorite people there and so far she was uber successful.

She pre-warned me that Aly would be there. Which if you knew the history between Aly and me you'd be all "GASP!" but it's really not that big of a deal anymore. Because I'm an adult and it happened THREE YEARS AGO.

Anyway, I'm leaving Steve's bar and driving in my car trying not to cry because I didn't bring backup mascara when I call to find out if there's cover. Honestly, I was trying to get out of it because I didn't feel like dealing with Aly or Staci and the idea of having the two of them in the same 30' x 45' beer-soaked proximity was more than my soul was prepared to bear. But Av told me not to act like I didn't know how to avoid paying cover and to get my ass down there already because I was her ride. Great.

I found an ATM that dispenses in fives (Totes!) and made my way to the side of Ye Olde Haunt. I found a middle-aged, clean-shaven guy wearing a sweatshirt, baggy jeans, and a lonely expression and asked to bum a cig. He gave me his OMG-I-can't-believe-a-girl-is-talking-to-me smile and was quick to oblige. I fake puffed, he made awkward conversation and then I sat on the railing, so I could straddle the railing, so I could just swing my other leg over when he inevitably asked me if I wanted a beer. Cover-free entry granted.

I make the mandatory lap and find Averi, Staci and Aly up front with 4 other chicks I've never met and all of their collective girl crap on a huge amp. No one is talking. Awesome.

Av makes introductions and it seems like everyone standing there is her friend and not Staci's. Weird, right? How is it that we're eight people deep and the only one who wants to be in this place is Staci? But none of her friends came? So, why are we suffering? Nobody knows.

Aly and I make up without saying the words but that's only because we found a common enemy in Staci. That chick is nasty. She was angry that I didn't want to stay at Ye Olde Haunt because Did I See That Bass Player? She was totally gonna get him tonight. I told her he better drill her like he's J. R. Ewing and she's unchartered oil land because his band sucked and I was tired of listening to them. She got braggy about how she'd had sex in each bathroom and the bar and the stage and how this place had her name all over it.

I thought Aly was going to cry she was so disgusted. She picked up her stuff and clutched it to her chest, "That bathroom?", she said, "The one I just threw up in? OMG! It's so nasty in there!". I confirmed that Staci was just grody and bathroom sex is nothing to be proud of. I mean, what girl hasn't been propostioned. The key is to know that you're better than that and decline it. This gave Staci sad face. Besides, "[they] put down a jacket". Riiight... that totally makes it better.

Staci got super huffy and tried to go on about how she gets more ass than a toilet seat because of course she does. Staci is that girl that's still in the bar at 3:00AM. You know the one. After the lights come on and the rest of us have either hooked up, dipped out, or are helping our DJ / bouncer / bartender boyfriend pack up so we can leave, there's that one girl still there that nobody wanted and that one guy that's really drunk and even more desperate has finally convinced himself that nasty pussy is better than no pussy at all so why the eff not. That's Staci.

Don't give me the "J-Bird you're so damn judgy!" face because everything I just said is true. Staci is 5' 2", over 300 pounds and very insecure. Everything is a competition so why wouldn't she sleep with anyone that asked. This girl bragged about trolling for trailer park snatch. WHAT IS THAT!?! Who brags about these things? She told us the story of how she pushed a wall down whilst making coitus in Ye Olde Haunt. Huh? Ewah!

But Averi still loves her. Even though Staci didn't pick her up to bring her to the bar like she said she would. It didn't matter that none of Staci's other "friends" didn't show. Averi didn't blink when Staci declared that "You can't leave! M already backed out on me!". She didn't flinch when Staci accused her of stealing her precious cigarettes or said that she owed her money for tipping over a $5 beer.

In short, Averi is a saint.

So when she said that she wanted to leave to go to The Pool Hall, I was game. What Averi wants Averi gets. And I did the right thing by not saying one word to Staci when she stomped up to me with, "Where's Av?". (I point like E.T.). "Well, what is she doing?". (I make universal sign for 'check, please') "Why?" (I make driving motion) "I told her she couldn't leave!" (I smirk and shrug because Ha, Bitch!) Anyhow, she stomps away from me and I see head shaking, foot stomping, finger pointing and what seems to be yelling and I want to thrash her. But Av? She just walks past her like it's not happening.

God Bless her heart.

Check, Please!

Ed note: I had such a good weekend it was ridiculous. I'll be telling you about it in broken parts and I'll try to remember to link back and forth between posts to make it even more confusing.

This is obviously a Disney pic but I found it here.

Some people don't know why they're single. And to those people I say, "That's a shame". Because people like me, who know why they're single, dont' have time for people like you. I'm single because I've stopped trying.

Fat jeans, sneakers, and ponytail holders have replaced my skirts, pedicures, and makeup. It's totally my fault. I'm sure that if I updated my wardrobe and changed my attitude I'd be surrounded in penis. That's just the way it is. It happens every summer.

But this dude, Peter Pan, he doesn't have a clue. Or a chance in hell with me for that matter. And it's all Averi's fault.

I went out with the girls on Friday and after all those shenanigans, Averi and I went to our favorite billiards place. I'm a military baby (and a teeny bit paranoid) so I always scan, count & plan.

Scan - the room and identify exits, patrons and threats.
Count - the number of males versus females, potential hazards and routes for escape.
Plan - who you will get to know, who you will avoid, where you will set up camp and how to get out if things go wrong

It sounds complicated but with enough practice, it becomes a very simple and standard part of your life.

So if you ever see me on the street and I haven't acknowledged you, know that is most likely by choice - which isn't something that Peter Pan had figured out.

It was 1:15AM and Averi was still thristy. I had planned to be asleep by then and told her that departure was 30 minutes away.

Averi: I want another drink
Me: *sigh* I'll get it.

I went and had a small convo with the bartender where I had to convince him that making two Sprites and a water were not beneath him and that I planned to compensate him for his time. He laughed softly but told me that it was OK because he saw me earlier waiting at the bar when all I really needed was a band-aid because Av had scraped her knuckle on some filthy surface. And since I never yelled his name or stomped off in a huff, he figured this would make up for my insane amount of patience. We had a playful struggle over whether or not he'd accept my five dollars and when I finally got back to Av all she had to say was, "I'm gonna go smoke". All I could think was, "Again? She is so drunk".

I could see the shift in my left periphery. I could smell the sweetness of his cologne. I thought I was home free until he sat down on my right-hand side.

Oh, shit.

Peter Pan: Hi. I'm Peter.
Me: Hi, Peter.
PP: I prefer to be called Pierro.
Me (totally confused): Umm... then why didn't you just introduce yourself as Pierro?
PP: I'm an only child and I went to an all boys school so I dont' know how to talk to women. It's hard for me to do this right now. But your friend said you were a good woman.

Ah, Jesus Christ, Averi! You and I are going to have a serious fucking conversation when you sober up!

I don't even remember the rest of what he said except that he's from Ghana. I have kinda sworn off Africans for the rest of my life. Rest assured that he knows nothing about me because he doesn't listen. But he did get my real phone number because Av called me out. (Av: Girl, I thought you changed your number!)

And so the text messages began.

I excused myself to get Av so I could remind her how real friends cover for each other and don't throw each other to the wolves. While we're talking I receive PP Call 1 at 1:31AM where he goes to voicemail and has the audacity to leave a two and a half minute message. (This is a problem). That's swiftly followed by PP Text 1 at 1:36AM of: "Did I see ur friend n is she ok". (This is not cute to me).

I ignore his contact attempts because I'm walking back through the bar with Averi to leave. He follows us out. I kill Av with my eye darts. We get in the car and I get PP Text 2 at 1:52: "I like ur smile keep it up".

Me Text 1 - 2:01: Awww... thanks. ---> Beacause really. WTF does that even mean?

PP Text 3 - 2:39: R u girls home safely <--- I'm not even kidding when I say I HATE TEXT SPEECH. And the lack of punctuation makes my eye twitch.

Me Text 2 - 8:07: Yes, love. We are. I got her home before 2A and I was asleep before you sent this message. I hope you have a great day today. <--- See. I don't yet know what a pain in the ass this dude is gonna be.

PP Text 4 - 8:39: Gudmornin dear

PP Text 5 - 10:46: Hi Jbird how r u doin hope to hear from u today

Me Text 3 - 10:49: I'm good. Just laying low today. Lots of chores & errands to do. Then I'll do some reading. How are you? <--- I was being SO serious. I had lots to do on Saturday.

PP Text 6 - 10:55: Relaxin do my homewk n go for church meeting at 3pm

Me Text 4 - 11:00: Good luck w/ your homework. I always hated it. Church on Saturday? Hmm... <--- I'm still trying to be nice. I don't want to be a bitch within 12 hours of meeting him.

PP Text 7 - 11:03: Youth meetin on Saturday n music rehassal cos I play de whole set of drums

Me Text 5 - 11:04: Oh wow! That's great! Have fun today. <--- I think it's over. But it's not. It's not even close to over.

PP Text 8 - 11:05: Wen do I get to c u again

Me Text 6 - 11:06: How's Wednesday?

PP Text 9 - 11:07: Wat time dear <--- I'll be damned!

Me Text 7 - 11:09: Let's say 730. <--- I'm a wee bit ticked at this point.

PP Text 10 - 11:13: ok dear but where do we meet

I get angry. I know I said I was busy and it has occurred to me that I've spent half an hour playing this stupid game with him. All so that he can play the ass and have me set up the date. Aw hell naw!

Me Text 8 - 11:14: I'll let you decide. <--- sarcasm everywhere!

PP Text 11 - 11:17: Ok I will let u no as days go by <--- I have decided he is a waste of my time.

Me Text 9 - 11:19: I can hardly wait. <--- Not only have I forgotten that sarcasm doesn't translate through text but I am absolutely sure that this conversation is over now. Right?

PP Text 12 - 11:22: I no cos am yearnin to c u again

WHOOOOOOOAAAAA!!! Yearning? This is most definitely NOT the verb for this situation.

PP Text 13 - 12:13p: R u doin ok

Me Text 10 - 12:14: Yeah. Just getting stuff done. Going to the salon @ 3p. Lots to do before then. <--- I'm beginning to lose my patience.

PP Text 14 - 12:16: Take it easy n ejoy (<--- not a typo on my part) ur weeken talk to u later

Me Text 11 - 12:18: I never take it easy. Always reaching for a goal; hustling. You have a good weekend too. We'll talk next week. <--- "Next week". Now this conversation must be over for I have ended it.

PP Text 15 - 12:17: Ok

PP Text 16 - 3:30p: How is ur day so far <--- I'm in the salon getting my manicure and telling mom and Nat about his craziness. I will not respond.

PP Text 17 - 6:00 - Hi <--- This ninja is gonna make me lose it all over him!!

PP Text 18 - 6:03: R u ok <--- Averi is dead to me.

I promptly post on her facebook that she and I will have a sit down on Tuesday so I can berate her in person before I have to meet Peter Pan and lay him out. To which she responds, "So we're not going to Africa? Because I had already started packing". Bitch. How dare she make me laugh at a time like this?

Nat Text 1 - 6:12: I wanted to see your face when you heard your phone go off again. LMAO. <--- If we weren't standing on opposite sides of mom in a sub shop I would have hit her.

PP Call 2 - 7:14 <--- Mom gets furious
PP Call 3 - 7:15 <--- He gets forwarded to voicemail permanently

February 6, 2011

PP Text 19 - 9:09AM: Gud mornin

PP Text 20 - 9:34: R u alrite Jbird

Me Text 12 - 9:37: I'm fine. <--- And I'm over him and all this foolishness.

PP Text 21 - 9:40: Ok I was worried n thinkin abt u

Me Text 13 - 9:42: I've been really busy and I'll be at a few super bowl parties today. We'll talk later.

PP Text 22 - 9:44: Have fun n be careful n no dat someone cares about u

Put a fork in me. I'm done.

At 9:44 Sunday morning, he had known of my existence for 32 hours. I've got boogers older than that. What I said after that was that he needed to back off because he was smothering me in affection and it was making me angry.

He may have tried to call but I can't swear to it because he's been forwarded to voicemail. It doesn't help that Steve and I had a fight disagreement and I'm missing the little bit we had. Or that Palmer is being super sweet to me and has made it very clear that the ball is in my court. Or that I'm ovulating and reading a Harlequin Blaze novel. None of that is Peter Pan's fault.

But he's still on my damned nerves. And that is his fault.

UPDATE: Averi upon hearing about the yearning: "J-Bird... I too am yearning for you. Also, I yarn for you. On some days, I yawn for you. Hahaha! But lately I'm feeling beaten out by this guy for affection. I will totally buy you a round or three... especially for his verb fail". I love her so much.

UPDATE TO THE UPDATE: Part Deux has been written

The Long Awaited Sister Day!!

All day Saturday, I puttered around my apartment straightening things here and there. Unpacking that dreaded 10% of moving boxes that inevitably stays packed until you're 36 months into your new residence and quite possibly ready to move again. But I did get two more unpacked and I finally got all of my Christmas decor up into the attic. Groomed the dog and washed my hair.

Basically, I did everything I could think of to bring down the anxiety. Saturday was the most important day of my month. It was Sister Day.

SIIIIIIISTER DAAAAAAYYYY!!!!

If you don't have a sister, then I'm sorry but you don't get it. And if you and your sister are just "meh" about each other, then I'm sorry to you too because you don't get it either. But if you and your sister rock hard core and have shared rooms, apartments, secrets, crushes (but never boyfriends), drunken celebrations, and public shame then you totally understand the importance of sister day.

Sister Day is the one day (or night) where we get to act like we're in high school and go to dinner, see a movie, drink some wine, have a spa day, and just be sisters. Not wives or girlfriends, not mothers or daughters; just sisters. And it had been six months since we'd had a sister day (our last attempt was squashed) so I was super excited. Actually, we were both super excited. Which is probably why neither one of us made any plans.

Once Nat got off work, she breezed over to my house and said, "What are we going to do tonight?" and I just stared at her blankly because it did not even cross my mind that we would need to have plans. We settled on going to one of the bars that's in our local mall. The place was packed! Especially for it to only be 8:30p. I mean, yeah, it's Saturday, but it's 8:30p! The young people shouldn't even be dressed yet and the old people shouldn't be out! But alas, they were out in droves. We checked in and the gorgeous hostess told us there was a 45-minute wait for a table but the high tops in the bar were first come, first serve. We put our names in just in case, she wished us luck and we marched forward in our fantastic 4" heels (mine multi-colored, round-toe glitter and hers camel, peep-toe ankle boots).

My eagle eye spotted a lonely high top and snapped it up without mercy. Nat couldn't believe our luck! God was smiling on Sister Day! Our server came through and brought us menus. Before our first drink order could arrive, a gorgeous silhouette caught my eye. I double-blinked and asked Nat, "Is that The Volunteer?" She spun around so quickly that I thought she would lose balance and go tumbling from her chair. The way her eyes darted around the room told me that I better be right about this one. She couldn't take the suspense any longer and kept asking, "Where? Where?!?". I pointed with words and then she saw it too. The broad shoulders. The strong jaw. The ruffled blonde hair.

There he stood. Ten feet away oblivious to the world watching some game on the bar's big screen. I was all "Let's go!" while she was like "We can't go". So I said, "I will leave you here!" and she said something that I nodded to but didn't verbally agree to so it's like she never said it at all.

Me: *tap, tap on shoulder*
The Volunteer: *spins around*
Me: The Volunteer?
TV: *face full of surprise* Oh my God! *chuckle* Hey!
Me: *beaming uncontrollably*
TV: Hold on... it's been a really long time... *snap, snap* J-Bird!
Me: Yes! Ohmigawd! I was looking and I was thinking it was you... *airy, flirty laugh* Well, Nat is here!
TV: Yeah? How is she?
Me: She's engaged!!!
TV: No way! I guess I need to come congratulate her!
See how gracious he is? *swoon* I heart this man in a way that words cannot express.
Me: Nat, look!
Nat: Ohmigawd! She said it was you!
TV: So, you're engaged?!?
Nat: *evil glare at me* Yeah? Well, the weddings not on but the engagement isn't off, so... *tinkly laugh*
TV: Ah. So I still have a chance then? *winning smile*
Me: *evil glare at Nat* *sends telepathic message "I will stab you"
Nat: *send telepathic message back "Bring it, Bitch!"

More witty banter and flirty conversation happens before he decides that he should stop being rude to his guy friends and make his way back over to the bar. Nat looks at me all evil-y,

Nat: I told you not to mention the engagement!
Me: What? When?
Nat: I said, 'Icks-nay on the engagement'. I even did this *make throat cutting sign*
Me: *Kanye shrug* I didn't hear you.
Nat: You nodded!
Me: Whatevs. 'The weddings not on but...' *mocks her Tinkerbell laugh*
Nat: Don't hate.
Me: Oh, I'm hatin'.

Nat and I laughed and regaled at how silly the two of us were acting. We ordered food that was only good by bar standards and drank $9.00 drinks that caused us to have minor heart palpitations when we got the check because Really!! the average cocktail in this region is $7.00. $7.50 on a Saturday. On the way out, we went to say goodbye to The Volunteer who noticed that I had a Blow Pop.

He was all, "What's going on with that Blow Pop in your mouth?" and I was like "It came in my Naughty School Girl drink *terribly seductive face and naughty lips*" and he's like "Hmmm... *evily grin and sexy eyes*" and I say "We could cut out the middle man" and Nat jumps in like "Give me a hug before we go!" and I want to stab her again. We find out he's not on Facebook I know right! because he's a new school fool It's a Snoop Dogg reference and we exchange numbers and part ways for probably another two years or at least until I buy a house in his neighborhood. I'm not yet above stalking him and his fine self.

We finished up at a small pub by my apartment that had a great jukebox selection and boasted few patrons on a Friday night which officially qualifies it as my new favorite place, especially after seeing The Volunteer who got me all hot and bothered. Nat and I sat and talked about all the other guys who have crossed out path and either made their marks as friends or lovers. Then we both accepted that from this point on, anyone we ended up with would be settling. In a good way. 8^)

Sister Day was an absolute success and was only made better on Sunday when we both woke up hungover the drinks didn't seem that strong going down but remembering everything that happened. If you follow us on Facebook then you know excatly how amped we were and how silly and giddy we can get over boys. But isn't that the best thing about having a sister. She's the one person you can be 100% yourself around 100% of the time.

Happy Sister Week, Everyone! Hope you get your Sister Day in soon. Next one: March 13th!

Friendship Smoothie

Yum, right?

Editor’s Note: This is not the post I promised but I felt like this story needed to be told. You can read about bigotry anytime but people with gymnasium-sized insecurities are few and far between.

I keep my friends separate. And it’s because I’m selfish.

I have going-out friends, house party friends, work friends, dinner friends, comedy club friends, Celebration friends, cry-it-out friends, does-this-make-my-ass-look-fat friends, and…

Breaking News!: MY BOSS JUST FOUND HIS COFFEE CUP! Whooooot! That’s a record 48 minutes right there. Normally, this game can last for days.

But the point is: I know a variety of people and I like them all for different reasons.

My Wine-and-Housewives friends are not the kind of people who cry it out. When I’m with them and I’m having man problems, we bitch it out. It’s less, “Awww… that’s so sad” and more “I know people”.

Last night, I went to a hookah bar with my friend Averi. Averi and I met many, many moons ago and we were clubbing friends. Until the day we were at the bar and she said, “Guys, I’m getting married”. I was the only one who took her seriously and that’s why we’re still close. So 4 years later, her with a 2YO and me planning for babies, we still get together whenever she’s in town and catch up like she’s just been living up the street.

This time she brought her friend Staci. I’ve never met Staci and I don’t need to compete with Staci but she needed to compete with me…

Staci (to Averi): Give me some money. I only have $10.

I hand Staci $3 to cover my share of whatever it is that she just bought without asking my opinion.

Staci (to Averi again): Why does she give me money and you don’t? Ahahhahahahaa!

I don’t see how that’s funny at all.

And you wanna know what else? I don’t like Staci. She’s a horrible person with major insecurities.

We start talking about Rollback (you will learn more tomorrow) and...

Averi: J-Bird, you dated that NFL player, right?

Me: Yeah (pause for breath)

Staci: Well, I dated that NHL player. Remember, Av?

Since I dated a personal trainer, then she whipped out her phone to show us the admittedly super sexy and realistically not sleeping with her half-naked man in her phone.

I was in the middle of my story about The African when she began her heart wrenching tale of being physically abused by her step-father for 5 years. When I tried to show sympathy, what I got in return was, “Well, it doesn’t bother me now. He knows if he tries it again I’ll cut his nuts off and slit him from sternum to sternum”. Ummm, ok? Or should I say WTF, dude!

It was the most exhausting 72 minutes of my life. It was like I was 3YO and Averi was Staci’s favorite toy and instead of letting me sit and play too she’d rather piss all in the sandbox. And I’m too old for that shit.

I’ve never had a conversation where someone was proud to be the most abused person in the group. She even had the audacity to ask me if she could get married on my family’s property in Savannah. The look on my face must have said it all because Averi chimed in quickly about money.

I hate other people’s friends. At first it was just a mild distate because this is a part of you that I don't know about and quite possibly am not at all interested in. I respect your right to have many facets to your personality. But please, on behalf of all people who hate their friends' friends, keep that bitch away from me.

This is Your Face...

This is My Fist. This is My Fist hitting Your Face!


That is how the new guy makes me feel.

For those of you who don't follow CBS111, you don't know about The New Guy. TNG is here to replace this bastard. Now I know what you're thinking, "Oh J-Bird, cut him some slack!", "He's only been here for 5 weeks!", "Giiiiiirrrrrrllllll, don't hit him! You'll get jail time!". But I'm here to tell you that he makes me so frustrated that I actually "Mommed" him. Yes, y'all! Mommed.

He has pulled from me my inner parent and I actually forbade someone from helping him. Why, you ask? Well, why what? Why did I Mom him? Because the fool don't listen. Why did I forbid him from getting more help? Because I'd already given him explicit, written instruction on how to accomplish his goal. And that was AFTER standing over him and watching him open all necessary files and forms AND THEN walking him through it AND THEN writing down the final steps including the information for the woman who receives all the information he has collected.

That's why he got mommed!

Because if I didn't mom him then I was gonna slap the taste out his mouth. Do you know he had the audacity to suck.his.teeth.at.me. I heard him! I wanted to get my ergonomic roll on and karate kick his ass.

He's a rude, arrogant, SOB that doesn't have the knowledge to work an excel spreadsheet. Like I said to him earlier, he can second guess himself all he wants but I'll be damned! if he second guesses me. I don't tell him things because I like to hear myself talk and I don't tell him things that will get him in trouble. I tell him things because that's the way that they're done. And the sooner he realizes that the sooner I'll stop wanting to kick him in the teeth.

And he thinks he's going out with me? Amongst my friends? You see what he thinks is: that he'll be invited and magically "forget" to call him "friends" and then I'll have no choice but to let him hang out with me and mine. But what he doesn't know is that I will embarrass his no-friend- having ass in front of everyone I know. Reference.

I'm sorry. To put that last paragraph in perspective you need to know that he texted me on Friday night wanting to know if I was going out with my friends. He wants me to let him know the next time I go downtown so he can come and hang out. I can tell you this much, he doesn't want to act a fool around you when I'm drinking. It won't bode well for his self-esteem.

You Will Never Guess What I Saw! - A Collection of Short Stories

"A Whole New Meaning"

I was talking with my sister about the latest craze in abbreviations: SMH. She told me that she discoverd what it means... by way of a customer in her store.

She was talking to one of the girls she works with while putting away shoes. "Grace", she said, "do you know what 'SMH' means? It's all over Facebook". Before Grace could answer a customer was like "Smuh? It's Smuh, like ugh! You use it the same". Everyone in the store is trying to suppress their giggles while Grace subtly enlightens them both, "Sweetheart, it's Shaking My Head".

Luckily, the customer got a laugh out of it himself. But *our* new thing? Girl, it's Smuh!

"Shimmy with me Africa!!"

Friday was Mrs.G's birthday and to celebrate she invited us girls out for sushi. The restaurant and atmosphere were fabulous. I knew this in advance so I figured that I would dress accordingly. Black dress with bright red accents. Plus my stunner studs! You already know.

After dinner, we trekked to a delightful spot called Level. When you go there at night in the spring and fall, they take all of the panes out of the windows. It's so chic!

We go upstairs and a very obviously gay man (who was so sweet and deliciously fun) was giving me the eye. I wave and apparently that opened the gates to hugs, European kisses, Latin dancing, and yes, a shimmy. He was so great and even nicknamed me "Africa". I heart you, Brian from L.A.

"Street Walker"

I spent a ton of Saturday night hoofing it around this fair city. I had forgotten how much I loved the lights, the energy, and the hustle of the people until I set out to each new destination. I was on my way back to my car when I realized that I was no longer in the Stilettos district and I was firmly planted in Birkenstock district.

It was fun to have the locals eye me with jealousy, wondering which fabu party I *must* be headed to. I loved the way the men stared as I passed them leaving the deep scents of chocolate, white peony, patchouli and vanilla behind me. I loved the glares from the other girls covered to their flip-flopped toes in over sized sundresses.

I... almost broke a heel. Apparently, they don't believe in repaving the sidewalks out there in the Birkenstock district. Gravel reeks havoc on the balls of ones feet and munches a stiletto's heel to dust. But that's OK because before the night was over I got a "Oh my gosh! How are *you* doing?". Who cares if he never calls, that guy made my night.


"Don't Be a Slave"

Once a month, Big Poppa and I will go to the comedy club for some laughs. This past Wednesday, we did our usual do. He wore dark jeans, a lavender shirt, and gorgeous crocodile shoes. I wore an orange ruched dress, new turquoise baubles, and my killer J. Simp gold paintbrush platforms. We looked stellar as always.

Side note: Whenever I'm with Big Poppa I feel like a rockstar. He never hesitates to tell me how beautiful I am. It helps, of course, that I put my best foot forward and aim to make the other guys jealous, but it does help to know that he appreciates it.

The show was hilarious and we had a great time. He learned the art of getting cheap drinks and I learned to keep my mouth shut when women walk by in horrendous outfits. I mean, seriously!

One woman wore leggings (as pants!) that had cut outs in them from her ankle to her thigh. Really? Really?!? And then she paired it with a t-shirt. Really? Do they not have mirrors where she lives? Did she not pass a pane of glass?

Then there was the frumpy mother. Or grandmother. Or spinster more likely. She's a plus-sized girl like myself. But when I want to step out, I pull something spectacular from my closet, usually purchased from SizeAppeal.com. Sheeeee wore black gauchos (!), a faded olive green woven halter top that was too big and sagged around her chest and back (ugh!), and black espadrilles (harrumph!). To make it all worst, she hadn't done her hair or makeup. Aaaaaand she had toilet paper on her shoe!

Now I'm a nice person, so I definitely helped her get the toilet paper from her shoe. And I didn't express my concern over her wardrobe choices. But if there were anything at all that I would have said, it'd just be to wear clothes that fit. If you try to hide your body it looks like you're wearing a tent. And then I would slap the shit out of her skinny friend who looked impeccable.

Thankful Thursday - A Belated Post

Good Grief! I let a whole Thursday go by and managed to not be thankful. I would feel ashamed but I haven't had time to feel much of anything except for tired. But that's because I have so many absolutely wonderful friends whom have been allowing me to selfishly encroach on their lives.

So, today, we're going to keep it short and sweet. I'm thankful for:

• having so many friends


• friends that are willing to re-connect


• having the money to pay all of my bills (even if that's the last thing I want to do with it)


• feeling so blessed


• knowing that even if all of my friends are getting married or having babies, I'm still getting drunk and am 200% ok with that

Happy Friday, Y'all!

I Will Roast You

"FUCK YOU!"

She didn't just recognize my voice, she recognized my tone.

My Saturday started like every other. I woke up like it was a Wednesday, walked the dogs, fed everyone, put on Winx Club, and laid my tired ass back on the counch until noon.

I got a text around 230ish from Nat asking if I wanted to go to a pig roast. What!?! Food? Fun? Random People? Yes, please! We couldn't go until 7 'cause Nat had to work but whatevs. Just more time to prep for Mom's Day. Which totally rocked the house by the way.

We get there at 7:46 on the dot and all is well. BBQ, beer, new friends: today is gonna be a good day. There's even one funny guy (The Viking) who grabs my attention and holds it by the reins. Now, I'm not delusional. I don't want him. He doesn't even live in this city. And since we're being completely honest, I've still got the Scorpio on the brain. Plus, he's a Scorpio and when he said that I could only think of my Scorpio. Who's much sexier with his chiseled abs and piercing green eyes. Mmmmmm... But nonetheless, this other guy, "Jeff Morris", asks me to come outside.

Have you ever been to a house party? Do you know what it means to wander off with someone? If you don't want rumors, then you don't go. I didn't like Jeff. His bouffant hair was ridiculous and his swag was non-existant.

So, I don't go until I tell The Viking that I don't want to go. So me, The Viking, Hostee's boyfriend, and Jeff are outside. They're smoking and I'm on the step asking Jeff what he wants. He just wants to talk. I go back inside. That's when Jeff approaches me again. "Just come outside", he says, "J-Bird, I just want to talk to you". So, I go. And this is where it falls apart...

Me (calm and leary): What?

Jeff: I'm just playing the Wingman.

Me (kinda angry): What?!

Jeff: My friend likes your friend so I gotta get you out of there.

Me (full-on angry): You suck!

Jeff: Huh?

Me (seething): You're a dick! I've been a Wingman before and Rule #1 is: Don't let your target know you're the Wingman.

I go back inside.

We're playing Shoulders. I would tell you how to play bu that involves pictures so you'd be better off just following the Wiki link. Finally, after 5 rounds and so much failure Nat has to pee. The Viking has to go too of course. Now, the whole time we're playing Jeff is standing in the kitchen across from me staring, making eyes, and giving me the head nod. My anger continues to boil because I'm sure I already told him to leave me the fuck alone. Boys never listen.

I go to pee and I see Nat standing there with The Viking in the doorway trying to seal the deal. I don't interefere. She's grown; she can do what she wants. I pee. They are still talking. When I get back to the party, Jeff is sitting next to my chair and there's this other girl actually in my seat. It's all good because I'm this close to cussing him out.

She offers to move. I decline. Why? Because I know myself. I know that I've been stewing since the convo outside. I know that if he looks at me wrong I'm gonna blow.the.fuck.up. That's when he opens his mouth and says, "Come on J-Bird. Sit by me".

Me (at the top of my lungs): FUCK YOU! Note to self: Next time you try to be a Wingman don't tell the girl that you're the fucking wingman. You're an asshole and you've got no game.

Jeff (little boy whisper voice): I never said I had game.

Me: Don't talk to me. You don't even know how to acquire a target. I've been a wingman; you suck.

Jeff: Why? Because my friend likes your friend?

Me: Because my friend is my sister. Next time do your fucking research.

(now facing The Viking) And you. Next time, get a real fucking wingman with game and your might actually get laid.

I give Hostee a hug and roll out.

Now, I know it seems like I was being a jealous bitch but what it really is about is the disrespect. How hard would it have been for him to hold a got damn conversation? Do you really think that you are so pimp that I won't get all up in your face and cuss you the fuck out. Because as he found out the hard way, I will whoop your ass in front of all your friends. He sat there like a little bitch while I stood between his legs and yelled in his face with the ultimate disrespect. The only thing I regret is that I had been drinking so my voice is a bit stripped now. That and maybe I should have told Nat early on so that I didn't have to sit there stewing and letting that punk get to me. Naaaaahhhhh... I liked embarrassing him. A lot.

Jesus Must Love Me Because I'm Not Hungover

Last night was not just rough it was rizzuff.

But it didn't start out that way. It started out going really well. And then, at the place where I stopped being in control and let others take the lead, it all fell apart. That's all I take responsibility for: letting others control a portion of the situation.

Yesterday was Ethan's last Saturday in Ohio and I have been promising to take him to the club for weeks. Maybe even months. But he's been talking about it for weeks.

I was supposed to go pick him up at 9:15p. But he wasn't ready and his aunt offered to drop him off at the club we were going to.

I was supposed to be the DD and get us all to and fro but Natalie offered to drive. Now, I don't know if you read this post but I obviously did not have the money to buy drinks. So, I was pre-gaming up a storm.

Natalie showed up at my apartment at 11:30. Ethan had been waiting for us for over an hour. And all she had to say was, "Well, if you didn't want to wait then you could have left without me". It took everything in me not to hit her, if only because she tried to whisper it thinking I wouldn't catch her backhanded remark.

But that's how she is. When she doesn't really want to do something but doesn't want to be accused of not participating, then she does everything she can to sabotage it. Like taking back roads to get to your house; turning a 15 minute drive into a 30 minute journey. Or saying she needs to go to an ATM first. Or that she hasn't eaten and is going to get food before she gets there. Or by offering to be the DD for everyone, including people who drove to my house, therefore packing the car but not even cleaning it out so that we could all fit. Or claiming that she can't read my hand-written directions. Or waiting until we are lost to pull out her GPS.

I should have known better than to trust her. I should have not taken even the tiniest drink because then I could have been on the road to my brother and perhaps saved the evening. I should have reminded myself that the reason she and I don't live together anymore is because I couldn't depend on her to give me simple things, like rent.

But, of course, this isn't her fault. I should have left without her. My directions were bad. And I knew she didn't get off work until 10p.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight...

Let me tell you what I did know, I knew that Ethan asked her personally on Friday to come and she said yes. So she knew that she would need clothes, food, and money when she got of work but she didn't have it.

And I know this too. I'm not apologizing for the things I said to her because I'm not sorry.

She says she's tired of putting up with my attitude and writing it off as me just being myself but I'm tired of being chastised for having expectations of her.

Last night was ridiculous.

Last night was bullshit.

Last night was completely embarrassing for me.

Last night I accepted that I'd be better off without Nat in my life.

pics = FAIL

I wanted to take pics this week to post on my blog and allow myself a glaring look at the reality that is my fat ass. But alas, what I did instead was recover from the hangover that was my life.


Friday night I discovered something that's almost too good to be true. Yes, I found root beer flavored vodka. And yes, it tastes just like the real deal. I just wish I'd had some ice cream because I would've made a float! And so, I had a sip here, a shot there, all while making myself a tasty little low-fat meal.

I sent a text message to my friends and they figured I was primed for going out and this is what happened. Everyone arrived at my place to get ready. It was just like old times and I was so happy to be with the girls again. I put on a cute orange dress (totally borrowed) and my new fav gold & brown platform heels. And was READY!!

Please note that I haven't been out on the town with my girls since I met NFL. That's more than three months. Yes, this is important information.

We go and get into their favorite haunt (some things never change), Sugar. And we get more drinks. (Yay! for cherry vodka and sprite -- it goes down like candy). And this very tall man touches my elbow. I give the stink eye. And then whisper to Natalie, 'That guy looks like Warren'. She says, 'That is Warren!'. oh.

Warren asked if I like 'Indian dudes'. I told him no, but apparently that wasn't good enough because he proceeded to escort me over to his friend. Who was definitely tall enough but just not my type. And my rude ass (to hear them tell it) just walked away from the guy before he could even say hello. Bahahaa. So classy.

I remember going to the bathroom. And they say I didn't tell anyone I was going. But I'm sure I did because it's like a cardinal rule that you can never go alone. It was exiting the bathroom that I fell. But not before I kicked my feet and yelled, 'NOT MY SHOES!!'. The bouncer caught me and JB helped me put them back on. Yay for friends!! And that bouncer... super cute. I really want him. But the girls won't let me... sigh.

Fast forward to The Patio where I'm standing at a table minding mine and trying to focus in the dark. This guy - whose face I don't remember - starts to talk to me. I instruct him to talk into my left ear cause the right one don't hear so well. That's when he says that he finds that 'interesting'. Wha? And that he wants to study me. *choke* Because he just wants to know how I get along in the world with my disability. Asshole. So then his girlfriend walks up and then he decides that he wants his chair back. I turn my back on them both because I'm not moving (especially for some tool shed and his pimp).

We go back inside and it's my turn to buy a round (someone should stop my consumption). I'm standing at the bar and one of the bartenders gives me The Look. I can't decide if he's cute or not, so I poll the girls and get a unanimous No with head shake. That settles that.

The night is over and we're walking back to the car. But me? I'm barefoot. Yes, on the skanky downtown side walk a la Ms. Spears. Until we get to the gravel parking lot. That's when I flag down these three guys and use them as a foot stool. Gramma would be proud.

We go to the Taco Bell near me. I didn't ask to go. It's just like the fourth meal gods smiled down upon me and decided that I should, in fact, indulge in a nachos bell grande, soft taco, and nachos with cheese. Now, to hear Natalie tell it, I was mouthing off to some people in the parking lot and she saved my life. What I remember is almost losing my nose in the window (that rolled up all by itself) and being trapped inside her car until (AHA!!) I figured out how to unlock it.

When I woke up at 8 on Saturday morning, I was still in my dress, laid across my couch with my contacts in and a Taco Bell spork clenched in my teeth.

I had a great time.

It's Almost Here

I know I shouldn't but I am actually getting very excited about my birthday tomorrow. Since I've lived here, each birthday has involved either snow or ice. The thing about that is it also involves a lot of sliding around in four inch stilettos. I would love to say that tomorrow will involve more of the same, but alas, I don't believe I will be celebrating.

Firstly because I am on a very strict budget that I already violated by purchasing fresh seafood (as a present to myself, you see). Secondly, none of my friends have mentioned doing anything with/for me. There was no office lunch planned by the girls here. They didn't even ask if I wanted to go anywhere. My 'going out' friends and I haven't actually gone out together since the summer. And even that was awkward. Thirdly, everyone has something else going on. Two of my friends have gotten married. One is now engaged. Two have moved back home with their parents. And the rest either have children or we haven't maintained the best contact.

You see, I don't have a Best Friend. You know? That person that picks you up when you fall flat on your butt. Or makes everyday a celebration. I don't have anyone who understands the very essence of who I am and that I know I can count on for any freaking thing.

I want to be sad about it but I can't muster the strength. I'm not generally a selfish person. You can see that I'm making excuses for the people in my life who have obviously forgotten me. But that's ok. Because no matter what tomorrow does or does not bring, you can find me in a tavern on Main Street toasting myself.